


Skin on Skin

by Lady_Therion



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Post-ACOWAR, post-bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 06:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: Cassian loves spoiling Nesta.





	Skin on Skin

His mate didn’t like to be coddled.

It was a trait that ran contrary to Cassian’s instincts, which urged him to fuss and dote no matter how much Nesta grumbled about it. She would scowl if he so much as fetched her a glass of water, insisting she was capable of doing it herself.

Cassian had no doubt she was capable. He also had no doubt that her peevishness had less to with his need to give her affection, and more to do with her need to feel in control. It was a need he understood...and respected. And in return for honoring her this way, his mate had given him the two things she would never give freely: her love and her trust.

This also meant that—on very rare occasions—she would allow him to coddle her.

Like now.

She was drained and bone-weary by the time they departed from the Steppes. Training the novice warriors from the female camps had taken their toll on her. So much so that she asked him to fly them home, rather than winnow them there herself.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy,” she murmured against his neck as he swept over hills and valleys.

She had said it in her usual dry manner, but there was a softness in her words, a softness she reserved solely for him.

It was that softness that made him decide to stop for the night.

“What is this place?” she asked as he set her down.

His hand went to the small of her back as they surveyed the snow-capped lodge before them. A hidden gem in the eastern ridge, the lodge was home to several cheery cabins—each with their own hot spring.

“I knew the keepers from before I became General Commander,” he said. Had saved them once, in fact, from being buried beneath an avalanche once.

In gratitude, they given him the sole use of their largest cabin—which not only the most private, but came with the best view.

“Such a hero,” she said.

It was the note of pride that rang through their bond that told him she wasn’t mocking him. He pulled her close, burying his nose into the crown of her hair, his chest swelling as he breathed in her heady scent.

That scent that made him smolder with _want_.

And because his mate was so amenable that night, she didn’t squawk once when he scooped her up in his arms, carrying and kissing her all the way to their rooms.

* * *

 

A fire was already blazing when Cassian laid her down in bed.

It wasn’t as large as the one they had at home, but Nesta hummed against his mouth as she sank into the soft furs beneath them.

He broke apart their kiss to graze the crook of her neck, savoring her every sigh as his teeth nipped and reddened her flesh. A tremor ran through her when he dipped his tongue in the hollow of her throat. His movements were slow and deliberate. He wanted to take his time.

He wanted to spoil her.

“Tired?” he asked, raising himself on his forearms to look at her.

Her blue-grey eyes were hooded, but ravenous. The desire in them was evident, but he held himself in check. He wouldn’t do anything without her saying so.

Nesta reached up to stroke his long hair from his face, the gesture so tender and so at odds with who she was. _A pillar of steel. A blade given form._ His eyes shuttered briefly as she smoothed her thumb over his rough cheek.

“Not too tired,” she said, a faint smirk lining her face.

She was so wicked, his beloved mate.

She also made the most adorable growl when he removed himself from her, if only briefly, to reach for something near the edge of the bedside table.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“This?” He swirled the small bottle of oil in his hand. “This is for you.”

Then he gave her his most feral grin, canines bared, before gently coaxing her to sit up.

It didn’t take him long to peel off her her fighting leathers until she was left deliciously bare. She arched under every caress, the rosy tips of her breasts peaking under his ministrations. He leaned down to suckle on one, and then the other, unable to resist their fullness.

And her _moans_. Mother damn him, her moans alone could stir his blood and stoke his lust into a frenzy, his cock twitching at her sweet cries.

He had always imagined Nesta to be a very quiet lover, reserved and perhaps a bit shy. She was not so with him. Her first true lover. And her last.

It shocked him at first, just how vocal she could actually be. Enough to rattle the walls and windows. Enough that they had to use magic to mute the sounds from their bedroom. It thrilled him to no end that she could rival even Rhys when it came to showing her mate just how much he pleased her. Rhys could make mountains tremble. Nesta could rend apart the sky.

“Turn over, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Turn over for me.”

It took her a few moments to obey. Not because she was tired, but because he continued laving at her nipples. He couldn’t help it though, especially when she began to plunge her fingers his hair, the heartbeat in her chest thunderous and erratic.

It was only when she lay on her stomach, presenting that gorgeous backside to him, that he began to tear off his own clothes. His arousal hung heavy between his legs and while he would loved nothing more than to sink into her soft and aching warmth, he didn’t.

There would be time enough later for that.  

For now, Nesta was prone and pliant beneath him. She didn’t surrender to him this way often and he wanted to relish it.

He unstoppered the bottle of oil, coating it over his scarred and calloused hands.

His mate couldn’t seem to stay still. She squirmed in a way that made him smack her lovely ass. He knew what she was doing, trying to goad him into fucking her—and he _would_ fuck her. He would worship and devour and claim until the both of them soared into the halls of eternal glory.

But first…

His palms glided over her sore muscles, spreading the oil across her skin, willing her tension to ease as he rubbed attentive circles over every curve of her lithe body.

Some male part of him preened with satisfaction when she began to slacken and purr. Taking that as an encouraging sign, he added more oil until she was a glistening mess.

He used light pressure at first, then steadily applied more of his weight, using his forearm to undo the knots on her lower back. And if he thought her moans to be mouthwatering before, it was _nothing_ compared to the divine keening that followed when he slid his oiled fingers into her.

“Cassian!” she gasped, toes curling.

The walls around them shook and quivered as her soaked and dripping cunt yielded to him. He _loved_ making her come, could sometimes find his own completion by just watching her sweat and writhe, reveling in the knowledge that _he_ was the one responsible.  

Him and only him.

Her keening became a litany of  “ _yes, yes, yes_ ” that rose into a agonized crescendo as he curved his fingers inside of her, massaging those inner walls while his free hand began to pump his cock.

His nostrils flared as the smoke from the fire mixed with the smoke coming from Nesta’s fingers. This was how he knew she was close...when she began to burn the sheets.

“Please, please…” she begged.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, though the skies tonight were clear...

The oil had made her slippery enough to turn herself over so he could see the rawness in her eyes. His cock was practically _straining_ and he nearly sobbed with relief when she spread herself wide for him.

She came at his first thrust, the oil enhancing the slickness of it, the exquisite friction of it all sharpening between them. He threw his head back, brows furrowed in an almost pained expression as her tight heat robbed him of any rational thought.

There was no heaven, he thought, no heaven at all except for the one between his mate’s legs.

“My love…” she whispered, bringing him back down to earth.

He slammed his hips forward, making her hiss and whimper with ecstasy, her breasts bouncing as he drove himself into her—wild and rough and merciless until his cries mixed with hers. A cacophony of lust. A maelstrom of bliss, pure and obliterating, as they raced toward that golden edge of release.

He made sure she came three more times before they both tumbled over at that edge.

He collapsed onto her in a hot rush, clutching her close as he felt himself come...and come and _come_ like he was some green soldier after his first tumble in the hay.

She folded him into her arms as he sought the refuge of her embrace.

“Stay inside me,” she said.

He shivered at her command and did what she bid him.

It was a long while before either of them could speak, the both of them still drifting in the waves of their high. The bond between them shimmering like a freshly forged sword. In all his long and bloody life, Cassian had never ever felt so complete.

“Tired?” she asked, smirking again. 

He grinned against her skin, feeling himself stiffen as she began to roll her hips against his, a faint ember of their rapture beginning to spark and ignite.

He kissed her, hot and searing, branding her as fiercely as any Illyrian warrior would. Then he turned on his back so that she was above him.

“Not too tired,” he told her.

His mate’s eyes gleamed with something cruel.

“Good,” she said. Then she grabbed the remains of the oil he used on her. “Now it’s my turn.”


End file.
